Fertile Affair
by Amaya0kami
Summary: What do you get when two strangers walk into a bar, drink too much, and get a room for the night? A baby. Yeah, Mikasa didn't find the joke funny either, but no matter how hard she tries she's unable to spit out that final punch line to Levi. Modern AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I'm not sure how long this story will be. It was supposed to be a long oneshot, but I realized half-way through that this type of story needs a little more exposition and development. This probably would've came out better if I wasn't so creatively blocked, but hey, I tried. At least this doesn't take place in another winter setting like my other snk fics lol.

* * *

The door to room nine fastened shut behind two staggering strangers. While never breaking their sultry eye contact, they zigzagged across the motel room together, groping and touching one another every step of the way. Within seconds they stripped off each other's clothing and tumbled into bed.

Mikasa didn't know a great deal about this man on top of her, who ravished her neck as she tangled her arms around his brawn back, but something about him felt strangely consoling and, of course, overwhelmingly exciting. In the short amount of time Mikasa spent with him, she gathered this much: he's a charming man with a satirical nature who had eyes like chips of ice; his glares were like a frigid winter breeze in the midst of summer.

The night belonged to them, and just for a while, they belonged to each other. Just for tonight, they shared this bed, this intimate temptation radiating between them, racing hearts, saliva with every raring kiss—and equal pleasure when he slid between her legs at last.

Slick with arousal, Mikasa enclosed her legs around him. With a lovely sound drawling from his mouth, he jerked his hips, his intensity never faltering once; he just kept hitting that tender bull's-eye _every time_. Only a minute in and Mikasa had already reached the conclusion that this was the best fuck of her life.

Earlier, both of them neglected to trade proper introductions—and as a result, Mikasa had no name to shout, but she'd cry it until morning if she did.

The motel room, furnished only with the bare essentials, fragranced with his cologne and a mixture of their intoxicating breaths. With every thrust came a new creak from the mattress, an airy moan and a deep lustful sigh. The wan glow of the bedside lamp captured every vulgar touch—a trail of goose bumps festered where his fingers grazed along her perspiring skin.

His body felt humid like a smoldering summer day, his skin sodden with his and her own sweat. Squirming and twitching, she crushed him between her thighs each time he grasped her hips and shoved in deeper with added pressure.

Slitting open a moist eye, Mikasa gazed upon the stranger hovering over her, glaring back with equal desire. Gritting his teeth, he pounded into her like a drum until she curved her neck back, and he used that opportunity to lick the length of her neck. Lolling in the electrifying endowments this stranger bestowed her, Mikasa squeezed her eyes shut once again.

Even with Mikasa's mind fuzzy and numb from the numerous rounds of Rum-and-Coke she dirtied her brain with, she could still ponder how fantastic it felt to touch someone new—to feel the strands of his black hair between her clasping fingers and the brittle feel of his shaven undercut, to feel his damp and tensing abs press against hers, to feel every last bit of him throbbing between her shuddering thighs like a bass as she sang along with screaming vocals.

Her partner this evening wasn't what she'd call expressive; even during sex he seemed stolid. Likewise, he proved himself to be a man of few words, but the language his body spoke was like a sweet foreign tongue rolling against her ear; it couldn't be directly translated, but God did she _feel_ it.

This one night affair all started back at Trost Tavern: a dirty local watering hole where old folks met up and filled themselves up until their buckets kicked over. The bar, which looked more like the set of an old western film, wasn't Mikasa's scene at all—she didn't even consider herself a drinker. But when her friend's moved away to pursue bigger and better things in an ambitious city, she believed a pathetic party for one was in order.

They say moving changes a person's life, but she didn't even need to move a muscle for her life to completely flip upside down. By her friend's moving away to college, a domino effect of disappointment ensued. She wanted nothing more than to join them and finally move out of her parents' home, but those dreams, that were stomped on long before having the chance to bloom, disappeared faster than the shots she ordered.

Not joining her friend's on their college adventure shouldn't come as a total shock to her (and their success shouldn't sadden her either, but she couldn't help but to be bitter about it). Mikasa knew the time would come when she'd be left behind in this rural town. That dreadful truth always stayed in the back of her mind, like a sickness she didn't want to acknowledge and have ruin her fun. Recently, the years of mindlessly overlooking the obvious had caught up to speed with her, and now that sickness had spread out and consumed her. The fun was over, and she was sick with loneliness and nostalgia and no remedy of anything would ever cure that.

Too poor to attend the college of her dreams, Mikasa had no choice but to stay behind. The effects of loneliness were beginning to creep in like a wave over an empty shore. It must be nice to have a doctor as a father that could dish out enough cash to bribe even the most elite university that someone with a low GPA like Eren had the potential to academically succeed, or the robotic brain Armin possessed that helped snag him a scholarship.

As a farmer's daughter without any outstanding academic qualities, Mikasa had no way of paying or outsmarting her way into a university of her dreams. Mikasa never slacked off in school, she passed all her classes, but it was all for naught—unless you're rich or the next Einstein, you didn't have a place at that school.

That last bit of hope she had for a bright future was completely eclipsed when that rejection letter arrived in her mailbox. She felt stupid for even applying, _as if_ her grades would be good enough, but it was a shot in the dark. But now, she had two options; attend a community college, (which would've been a fine alternative if she didn't live in a town so educationally backwards that the local university could scarcely be called advanced education) or, she could take over her family's farm. What thrilling options, whatever will she choose?

At any rate, she's cursed and bound to be trapped in this gritty town forever. Attending a good college and moving out of this town was her ticket out of here, but seeing how that was never going to happen, she better suck it up and get used to it. Drinking until her liver failed just so happen to be her way of dealing with this harsh reality.

Wiping a rivet of booze from her chin bitterly, she thrashed her head with a grimace, intolerant to the thought of being stuck in this wasteland another second. She truly had nothing at this point. No friends, no future, no education. Not even hope—she couldn't even entertain the idea of saving up money and leaving this town. Employment was impossible to find when every business in town was family-owned (and there weren't many public locations in the middle of the desert to begin with).

And to top it all off, she didn't even have her boyfriend anymore. Nothing could've prepared her for that last finishing blow. Eren didn't think a long distance relationship would work, and he didn't want to be tethered by a thousand mile leash during the best years of his life. She couldn't blame him. Eren's the type that could only focus on one goal at a time, and if he had to juggle a long distance relationship—which takes much more effort to manage than a normal one—he probably would've stressed himself out and have his studies suffer as a result. It might seem cruel and selfish on his end, but he made the right call for both of them. The separation would've likely led them to actually separate anyway. At least, by ending it this way, they left their relationship on good terms and still agreed to be friends.

Still, she loved the kid and she hated how she was not only split from her friend's and hopes, but someone she loved, too. Another sour mouthful went down the hatch just at the thought. Why was she the only one suffering in this situation?

Moving her eyes became a strained effort, her vision blooming and warped. Her hearing dulled a bit, softening the edge of all the old people chatting about their fabricated glory days over the sound of classic oldies. Seriously, if she had to listen to "Let's Go Sunning" one more time, she was going to crush her glass over someone's head. There should be a limit to how many times a single song could be played. The upbeat melody made a shitty soundtrack for someone suffering from depression.

All of this only dampened her mood more. Movies advertise bars as the to-be place when you're down on your luck. What bullshit. In movies like that, there's always someone playing the role of the convenient hero, there to whisk the depressed heroine from heartache—but no one was threatening to take away Mikasa's loneliness tonight. Knowing this disappointing truth made her even lonelier than before. Another way that cinematic lies built up societies expectations.

As soon as she felt brave enough to test her numbed legs, Mikasa intended to withdraw from this deplorable atmosphere. One more drink and one more round of Sunning and she's out of here.

When the upbeat song faded to a close, she gathered her purse and plucked out her wallet. Counting turned out to be more confusing than it ought to be. This was the only problem she could confidently solve right now: Math + Drinking = Frustration. While she struggled to tally up her bill and a tip, the beat of a song she actually recognized sailed into her ears. Returning her wallet to her purse, she picked her head up.

Sex and Candy by Marcy Playground. This song used to play on repeat during Mikasa's teenage years, but it wasn't composed in her era; it belonged to the generation before hers—just like the guy at the jutebox who played it. He had to be a good decade older than her, thirty-something, but he was still remarkably young compared to the flock of old geezers cooped up in here. Seeing someone in her age bracket turned out to be a reviving sight, just what she needed to drag herself out her reverie of despair.

The music helped elevate her mood too; the nostalgic notes instantly soothed her, offering a better high than the buzz spiraling through her. She found herself swaying to the beat and tapping her foot.

The man with the exceptional music taste took a seat on the other side of the counter, an empty row of seats between them. He seemed rather reserved at first, but once he got a drink in him he sent her heated stares and a free drink, and she toasted up her glass to show her thanks. With every sip her bashfulness subsided more until she was looking back at him with similar smoldering eyes, subtly flirting with him with enticing gestures.

The next half-hour consisted of drinking together from afar and eye-fucking across the room, but that ended as soon as Mikasa worked up the nerve to ask the bartender to relay a message.

"Tell that guy over there I wanna buy him a drink, but he's gotta come over here to get it."

Once the bartender relayed the message, the man slid his eyes over to her with a hitched up brow, then quickly picked himself up and made his way over.

If she were sober, Mikasa never would've summon up enough bravery to ever make such a bold request, but as he made his way over in an assertive gait, she secretly thanked Bacardi for granting her with this sudden confidence.

A black blazer hung off the edges of his small-framed shoulders like a cape; the upper buttons of the white top beneath were unfastened to flaunt the gap where his collarbones met. Two slim eyes contrasted against the monochrome wardrobe; they were as blue and fierce as the sea, and Mikasa found herself drowning in them.

Where the hell was this guy hiding all this time in this tiny burg? Was he new in town? Scratch that. No one would willingly move here.

Whatever his story may be, it just now crossed paths with hers, and—perhaps this was her intoxication talking—but this encounter didn't feel like an accident. She felt they were deliberately written into the same story together for a reason; whether their plot lasted a chapter or a trilogy, she didn't know, but she felt she was meant to meet him.

"I thought this place was a retirement home before you strolled in," Mikasa broke the ice with that line as the man settled himself on the stool alongside her. A cigarette hung from his mouth, framed by a perfect pair of plump lips. She tried to conceal the fact she was excessively eager to welcome the reign of a youthful individual into this kingdom of old people.

"We're still severely outnumbered," he said truly, flicking a drooping ash into the tray. "You waiting for friend's?"

"Oh, no," her voice was thin. "I'm by myself. What about you?"

A ring of smoke blew from his mouth. "If I had friend's in this town I wouldn't be here—no offence."

She scoffed. "For your information, I have friends. They're just not...physically present."

He rested a palm against his skeptic face, and Mikasa grinned, yet her mouth hung after a moment, weighed down by the heavy gaze he had rested on her. The strip of smoke from his cigarette made waving trails and she found herself following it to the ceiling to avoid his eyes.

"Hmm."

The curious sound lured her eyes back to him. "What?"

With a light shrug, he picked up the fruity cockttail she bought him and brought it to his lips. She could admire a man who could appreciate a sweet drink without fearing his masculinity was at risk. "I could understand why your imaginary friend's couldn't make it here this evening," he started with a sneer and Mikasa bumped her elbow into him before he continued, "but I'm having trouble understanding why a pretty girl such as yourself would hang out in a shithole like this."

Her eyes went rolling. "I'm sure you say that to all the ladies that come in here."

"You got me. I used that same line on this braud a weekend ago—and she said I reminded her of her great-grandson."

Mikasa restrained the grin that threatened to conquer her lips. Why was this stranger even making her happy? A minute back, she was perfectly content with being miserable and futureless and persuaded she'd never smile again. How did he detract that gloomy aura from her, and so quickly? Maybe not all tropes in fiction were false—was he playing the role of her hero that arrived in the nick of time, bound by personal oath to rescue her from her woes?

Well—he certainly wasn't an impeccable hero offering her a happy ever after, but he did wind up becoming her knight for a night.

The two of them entered their own little world. Everyone and everything dissolved outside their attentive bubble, and Mikasa loved how nothing, not even obnoxious background clamoring and a reprise of Let's go Sunning could pop the personal space they created.

Suggestive remarks, more eye-fucking and occasional touching ensued. Mikasa's hand flirted with his face, her fingers tracing his defined jaw. And his, albeit more tentatively, caressed her inner thigh.

Those tantalizing touches put a stop to their social interactions, and from then on they communicated consecutively through their bodies, and another drink later Mikasa found herself being maneuvered to his lap by the guiding hands on her hips.

At first, she admittedly felt self-conscious and thought she was too heavy to be sitting on his lap, but he didn't even flinch under her weight. His arms binded around her waist, keeping her sturdy on the wobbly stool. Swiveling around to face him, she bent an arm around his shoulders, and he leaned over to whisper in her ear, she nodded, and a gentle kiss pressed against her smirking lips. A slip of tongue joined the kiss a few pecks in, and he tasted like a combination of menthol mint and sweet blackberry. Mikasa wondered what she tasted like to him. Probably Coke and salty tears. She kissed him back eagerly, with bottom lip bites and twirling tongues, not at all resembling how she used to kiss Eren. Pure and innocent high school sweethearts didn't share feverish dirty kisses like this.

When the bar began to clear out in droves, the bartender approached them. "It's last call, guys. Want another quick round before heading out?"

"I think we've drank our share," he answered, then combed back Mikasa's hair, his lips pressing against her ear as he whispered, "I wouldn't mind taking you to go, though."

Her knight's proposition made her heart flutter. His deep purr of a voice had simulated her in all the right places, and that billow of excitement coursing through her motivated her to leave with him.

Afterwards, her memories became fragmented here and there, but in the meantime, Mikasa knew she was in room nine with this irresistible stranger, on her knees as he now took her from the back. With one hand, he fondled a handful of her breast, and with the other, he strummed her clit with his fingers, all while he nibbled at her shoulder _. This guy's a phenomenal multitasker_ , she couldn't help but think.

Humid moans roasted up the room as Mikasa arched her spine and pushed back to meet his friction. Panting, her fingernails dug into the fluff of the pillow as his enthralled huffs breezed against the nape of her neck.

Wrenching away from him suddenly, Mikasa flipped herself over and laid flat against the bed, her body writhing against the sheets, her chest fluctuating wildly. Once she caught her breath, he adjusted his position and brushed his tip down her slit, but she denied him entry by quickly seizing his shoulders and wrestling him to his back. She liked the look on his face as she straddled him; like a mesmerized little boy about to choke on his own spit.

As he enjoyed the view, her hands ran up his muscular body, and he responded by tracing the curves of her hips. Shifting over, Mikasa flicked her tongue along his lips as she adjusted him between her, stroking him a bit before straightening herself.

With a convulsing jolt, her toes curled and her eyes sealed shut as every pulsing inch road up her. A moan floated up to the ceiling, and a few grunts lingered below as her body bobbed up and down. Every so often, she'd roll her hips in circular motions, stirring him inside her, which caused him to vibrate and purr like a kitten.

Based on the growing intensity of his sounds, she could tell he was about to finish, she was too.

"Wait—" his voiced clipped between his clenched teeth. "You should probably..."

But Mikasa continued to spring in his lap, too close to the finish line to do anything stupid like waiting. Biting her bottom lip, Mikasa raked her nails down his chest, currently hanging off the edge that would send her plummeting to climax.

"Really," he strained to say once again, out of breath as he clawed at her hips. "I'm not wearing a—" but Mikasa never heard the rest, because his sentence merged into an inflection of deep moans as he tossed his head against the pillow. Mikasa entered a blissful world of hazy white, her damp body twitching as hot white streams oozed down her thighs.

Next, she collapsed on the empty space beside him and entered the best damn sleep of her life.

~x~

 _Hangover_ , was the first thing that came to mind the next morning. Mikasa's heavy lids flipped open and her hazy vision rendered an unfamiliar ceiling. With her brows bunching down in the center, her body peeled off the sheet sluggishly. Her mouth was dry and her body, coated in sweaty residue, felt dirty—she felt like she spent the night outside in the desert. Did she? Her memory wasn't fully configured yet.

Slouching forward, Mikasa tousled her unkempt hair, the hangover assaulting every corner of her skull. Head raising, she blinked the blur out of her eyes. Consciousness slowly drifted back to the surface as she scanned her eyes over the framed paintings and tasteless wallpaper adorning the walls. This certainly wasn't her room.

A quick look down revealed that she was naked. Face tensing, she quickly clamped the blanket and stuffed it under her chin—but in doing so, she caught a glimpse of something that made her heart sink. Letting her expanding eyes cautiously peer down, she stole a second glance at the fluctuating lump beside her.

" _Shit_." It took all of her power and restraint not to scream bloody murder. There was a man tucked beneath the blanket, deep asleep beside her.

Upon looking at his face, a montage of memories rushed in her mind, and she had to nurse her aching head as she reviewed them all. There were some missing gaps, and she didn't remember even getting here, but according to the recap, she had sex with this man last night.

Risking a sidelong glance, Mikasa examined him as he slept. He looked much different without her drunk goggles on, without the darkness of evening coating him and without lust enticing her. Unlike last night, he wasn't exciting anymore—he was just a slab of regret wrapped in floral print.

A strip of morning sun swept over his pallid face from a crack in the window's curtains, and she studied every detail of him. She might regret sleeping with him… but admittedly, her sober-self still found him attractive. At least she didn't sleep with one of the ninety year olds last night. _No, stop it,_ she thought, _don't try to justify this with worser case scenarios_.

When his features twitched a little in his sleep, Mikasa jarred back like a jack in the box just popped in her face. Embarrassed with herself, she went red in the face and tugged at her hair.

 _What did I do—What did I do?_ Suddenly unable to bear being close to him, she slid her legs off the edge and tried to stand without disturbing this man—oh god, she didn't even know _this man's_ name, did she? She fucked up, _that's what she did._

Right now, she simplified her thoughts to one objective: getting dressed and getting the fuck out of here. A mournful sigh freed. Timed stealth games were never her strong point.

The task of collecting her scattered clothes around the room didn't make her feel any less dirty or ashamed, but she opt to do it as quickly and quietly as she could. It was like a sick game of scavenger hunt; her bra was draped over the lampshade, her shirt over the headboard, her skirt far across the other side of the room, and her panties were found wrapped around the bedpost. Either that was some precise placing or a very lucky swing.

Once she pulled her head out of her shirt collar and her skirt was above her hips, she scrambled for her shoes and tip-toed her way around the bed to collect her purse on the nightstand, which had capsized and caused many of her belongings to spill out. She allowed a moment to curse her sloppy drunk self.

Silently, she squatted down, reached between the crevices between the nightstand and the bed, and blindly fished up all the items she could feel and stuffed them back in her bag.

Taking one last look at the back of the stranger, she fled to the door and closed it soundlessly behind her.

When she stepped outside, she let herself fall back on the door so she could take a moment to breathe and gather herself. A beautiful blue sky greeted her squinting eyes, but all she could think about was the regretful things that took place under last night's black sky. She felt sick and fowl and it had nothing to do with her stomach rejecting last night's liquor.

Wearily, Mikasa dug out her keys and clicked the remote to unlock her car, only it did little good because her car wasn't there. At this realization, her arm lowered with a scowl.

That's right, she drove to the bar, but intended to use one of the taxi services the bar provided to get home. Seeing that it wasn't here, she assumed it must still be there—but where was the bar? Her eyes scanned the vast, unfamiliar landscape. She never been to this motel before. It was by the highway, but not by an exit she recognized.

Did they walk here last night? Did they take a taxi? Or did he risk driving his own car? She couldn't remember. Either way, she's completely lost. The sweltering desert heat drenched her brow with sweat as she tried to figure out where she was. She had lived in this town since birth but these vast desert plains all looked the same to her.

Mikasa dug around her purse some more, trying to find her cell phone, which turned out to be just as lost as her. A scream simmered in her throat.

An uneasy feeling bubbled inside her when she swung her attention back to the door she just escaped from. The phone might've fell out when the purse tipped over. Mikasa weighed her options: she could either wander the desert aimlessly and phoneless, or she can try to sneak back in to find it without waking him up, then use the GPS or a call her mother if it was too far of a walk.

Each option was risky, but before she considered either, the knob of the door jiggled and twisted and in that millisecond, Mikasa catapulted herself out of visional range; she didn't even know her body was capable of reacting so fast. Apparently, hangovers grant superpowers.

Hushed and crouched down, Mikasa pressed her back against the ice machine as she listened closely for movement.

She waited for a moment in tormenting silence. A sweat bead fell down her cheek. Was he still there? She didn't hear him close the door. So he's standing there—still? Why would he just stand there? Maybe he walked off and shut the door more silently than she did. Should she hazard a quick peek?

Shifting her gaze over the barricading line, she caught a glimpse, stifled a gasp and thrust herself back against the ice dispenser; her heart racing. She remained ducked and silent. He was still there, shirtless and dressed in the pants he wore last night, looking forlorn out in to the parking lot.

Luckily, her one-night lover wasn't looking her way and hadn't spotted her. It'd only add to her embarrassment if he did. A few passing seconds later, she heard the door slam shut, hard enough to make her jolt and shake the exterior walls of the motel. Mikasa freed the breath she kept locked in her chest, and buried her face in her knees, feeling stupid and guilty for so many contradicting reasons. And as she sat there on the slab of hot concrete, a sudden shadow crept over her.

"Could I help ya'?"

Sucking in a gasp, Mikasa managed to strain every muscle in her neck when she jerked her attention up at the source of the voice, which turned out to be a middle-aged tall man with slick back hair and stubble framing his jaw. Realizing it wasn't the man she was trying to avoid like she initially feared, her heart rate decreased.

"Help me?" she kept her voice down, not wanting to attract the man she lusted after last night. She didn't understand why someone would suddenly approach her and ask such a thing.

"Ya' see, I'm one of the owners of this fine shithole , which means I'm unfortunately obligated to show curtsy and asks such things to guests," he ducked down a bit to confide with her in a hushed tone. "My sister would have another fit if she found out I ain't treating the guests with hospitality again."

"Oh," Mikasa stood back up, her dizziness amplifying from the sudden shift. Her focus returned to getting home. "Yes, you could help me, actually. Could you point me in the direction of the Trost Tavern? Also, could I get there by foot?"

"Yes and yes," said the man gruffly, using one of his hands as an awning to block out the sun flare from his eyes as he extended out the other to the road. "Just keep going that way until you reach the light, make another right at the corner by that old chapel, and you'll see it on the next corner. It should take you about thirty-forty minutes on foot," the man eyed her up and down, his pouchy eyes filling with apprehension. "I could get my nephew to drive you into town if you need a ride—when I find him, that is. No one should be walking around in this blistering heat."

"Thanks for your help, and the offer... but I'm okay." She needed to walk, to vent out all the pent up stress inside her. She speeded up her steps, heading far away from this place as quickly as she could, hoping the faster she walked, the faster the memories of this place would disperse.

A mile later, however, she kind of wished she did take the ride, but she couldn't exactly trust herself being alone with another man again. _Do you have no shame or restraint, woman?_ she scolded herself. _One night out and this is what you do_. Could she, a twenty-one year old sane woman, ground herself for her despicable behavior? Would that even be enough punishment for such a colossal fuck up? Some kind of redemption was in order, but what would possibly fix this?

There was nothing particularly wrong with embracing sexuality; she had nothing against people who followed lustful lifestyles and shared their bodies with a new partner every night, but it just wasn't _her_. Mikasa wasn't promiscuous, she didn't know how to seduce or flirt—she could barely even talk to men, never mind charm them into her pants. After sleeping with that stranger, she almost felt like a stranger to herself. It was just so out of character for her. Since when did she become the _sexually adventurous_ type? It took her two years just to get to second base with Eren, yet she hopped in bed with that stranger after a few stares and drinks?

Dust drifted over the vacant road as she wandered on, wondering all along if this awful experience would someday drift away and become as insignificant as a grain of sand. Fate had different plans in store, but for now Mikasa continued on, unaware of the new life sprouting inside her.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** The POV in this story will bounce between Levi and Mikasa in each chapter, so in this one we get to know Levi a bit better and in the next chapter we'll check up on Mikasa and see how she's doing. ;)

By the way, writing for Kuchel is pretty hard since we never actually seen her in action in the manga, so I just made up a personality for her; I tried to make it a mixture of Levi's and Kenny's personality while still implementing motherly traits, but this is quite difficult so her personality may be inconsistent at times.

* * *

The potted plants adorning the window sill reflected Levi's composure perfectly: dry, withered and on the verge of death. The heatwave assaulting his burg had been unimaginably cruel today, although not surprising. This type of weather was to be expected on the southwest hemisphere, which conveniently boarded the entrance to the fiery pits of Hell.

The motel lobby Levi currently occupied normally served as shelter from the heat, but the absence of artificial cool air made the office more unbearable to stand, more so than usual. Roasting directly under the blazing sun outside had to be cooler than this room—at least then there would be an occasional breeze. In here, all Levi had accompanying him was smoldering air, a sweaty plastic water bottle nearly at its boiling point, and a wrathful banging sound that assaulted his aching skull every two seconds or so. The angry strikes mingled with stifled curses and groans, and Levi soon discovered his patience diminished as fast as his tolerance to the heat.

"Please tell me you're almost done fixing it," Levi strained his eyes over to his noisy uncle, tempted to add that consecutively hitting and yelling at a broken air-conditioner wouldn't repair it. Knowing a heated argument would only ascent his temperature more so, he decided to keep his censure to himself.

Snaring like a panting dog, Kenny fussily rolled up his drooping sleeves. "Don't rush me, runt. I'm working on it."

"You've been _working on it_ since this morning." Now it was nearly high-noon; the hottest, most agonizing time of the day for desert dwellers.

Kenny scratched at his head, his hair greased with sweat. "Why the hell're you working the front desk anyway? Where's Kuchel?"

"I'm filling in for her today."

"I must say, I prefer the sound of her bitching over yours—less whiny."

With his leg jittering restlessly, Levi clamped his lips tight, barricading the retort on his tongue.

Knowing the heat would be too much for his mother to bear, he told her to take the day off and stay home—though he didn't phrase it as so. The woman was downright stubborn, just like everyone else in his family. Simply telling her to kick back and rest until the heatwave blew over wouldn't have been enough to tie her down. Instead, Levi told her he had some business to tend to on the office computer and could simultaneously handle checking lodgers in and out, adding that it'd be too cramped for them both to work in the lobby today. In truth, he already tended to the monthly logs days ago. The lie was enough to keep her home where it was cool, at least.

Ducking down, Levi return his water bottle to the mini fridge under the desk, hoping it would regain the chill it lost. The frigid wind that escaped upon opening the door swept up to lightly graze his face, granting him temporary relief.

"Piece of shit!" Kenny bellowed, a few incoherent curses lagging behind as he continued to attack the unit with full force. At least _his_ vents were working just fine.

Levi tipped his chair back and watched the show. "You might be able to threaten and beat others to get them to do what you want, but when will you learn that same method can't work on inanimate objects?"

"Shut your hole. I don't need tips from the _maid_." As he said that, the groove of the vent pinched his clumsy finger, and he yelped like a young coyote who lost its mother. A satisfied hum vibrated in Levi's throat as Kenny sucked on his swollen finger.

"I said _quiet_."

"You're the only one making a racket," Levi sighed wearily as he leaned over to grab a brochure to fanned himself off. It served no better use—it's not like it advertised any exciting landmarks or attractions in the area. Anyone that rolled through this dusty town wasn't on vacation. Either work forced them here or they're fugitives running from the law. Guest at the motel all looked the same to him, so unlike his mother who strived to turn their family-owned motel into a resort spot for vacationers, it made no difference to Levi if they were here on vacation or hiding from the cops. Kenny didn't care either—in fact he didn't care much about anything.

"I give up." Kenny let the tool drop to the floor, surrendering his weapon with a look of defeat.

"You useless shit," he spat.

Kenny drop down to the sofa and pushed up an unapologetic shrug. "Look at it this way—we can charge guests extra to sweat in the lobby by calling it a luxury sauna. We'll be like those fancy hotels with a spa." Kenny turned a goofy smile to his nephew, like a comedian waiting for applause to break out. His upper lip stiffened when his joke drifted by unnoticed. "C'mon, crack a smile."

"I'll crack that thick skull of yours open if you don't fix the damn AC."

"Someone oughta fix that disrespectful mouth of yours," he seethed, then widened his arms cluelessly, "What do you want from me? I can't fix it. We'll have to buy a new one."

"With the money we'd waste on buying a new unit, I can hire a repair man that actually knows how to repair things."

With icy eyes, Kenny stabbed a finger at Levi. "You shut your mouth. You don't call the shots around here."

Levi clicked his tongue in derision. When Kenny wasn't facing his nemesis: air-conditioners, he actually made a decent repair man, but it took him a day to finish a task that could've been done in an hour. He wasted most of his time lounging around drinking and would often run off to play cards with Uri when no one was supervising him.

Levi's mother was the hardest worker in the family; the devotion and heart she put into this business was stupendous, but due to her wonky health she couldn't be at full charge all the time. On her good days she accomplished more work than both Levi and Kenny combined, but when her condition weakened it was up to Levi to fill that demanding spot. Unwillingly, he was dragged into the lifestyle of owning and operating a business—and surprisingly, he wasn't that bad at it and knew he earned his share around here. He might not call the shots and run this place on his own, but if Kenny was the muscle, and his mother was the heart, surely Levi had to be the backbone keeping this place from crumbling down.

Too pissed to continue banal banter with his uncle, Levi diverted his attention in search of a more interesting sight and found a blinding one instead. Beyond the bright window, he spotted two lodgers depart from their room, lock up, and hurdle their belongings into the trunk of their car. Squinting through the streaks of luminous light, Levi tried to depict who the blurry figures were, but it wasn't until the duo enlarged with hurried gaits and neared the entrance of the lobby that Levi recognized them, and by then it was too late.

"Ah..." Kenny squinted out the glass. "It's that weird one and their pet again."

Kenny could see them too. That confirmed it. The figures approaching weren't mirages or imaginary visions rendered by Levi's over-heated brain. Quickly, he swiveled his chair around to face the bare wall. Creating constellations out of the thumbtack holes on the wall would be abundantly more interesting that any conversation with those nut jobs. Maybe if he didn't move and refrained from making a sound they would drop off their key and leave without saying a word.

The door opened with powerful bang. Levi tensed. _Stay still. Don't move. Cease breathing._ To keep his sanity in check, he let his eyes trace three pinholes. That formation almost looked like Orion's belt.

" _Leeeevi_!" came a bone-shuddering screech. "I have come to bid you farewell—but before I do I have LOTS to tell you!"

Too bad he couldn't hang himself with said belt. Reluctantly, he twisted back around wearing the most miserable expression he could muster as he eyed that zany smile looming over him. As expected, that shitty-glasses wouldn't leave until they got their hour-long goodbye in. Of course, like most things in Levi's life, things didn't go the way he wanted.

Levi survived the next twenty minutes or so by half-listening to a voice that sounded like a broken rotor that lost all function to stop. As usual, Hanji detoured from their original point and took the vocal scenery route, locking Levi in for the nauseating ride.

"So after Moblit and I hiked down the craggy slopes, we uncovered an unusual ravine..." Hanji tented their fingers together like a villain about to finally spit out the point of their long speech. "The gorge was completely scorched by black soot and all vegetation in the vicinity was burnt to a crisp. Wild, right?"

"If by wild you mean wildfire, yes," Levi said dryly, his cheek drooping into his sweaty palm. " The desert spontaneously combust all the time."

"No no no," they shook a disapproving finger at him. "All signs point to this being a _crash_ or a _landing spot_!"

Levi unleashed a lengthy groan up at the ceiling. "What you just said would make a decent punchline if you were joking, but I know you're not, which just makes you're entire story depressing."

"Levi. Levi listen," they voiced over his brassy groans, flapping their arms around frantically to lure Levi's attention. "This is important. There were even metal remnants scattered about the scene. We recovered a few, and that's why I'm checking out a day early—I need to get them back to my lab for experiments. We're onto something big!"

"Something big, huh..." Levi repeated as he massaged at his temples, hoping enough pressure would kill him. "Like the time you said you had cosmic contact with another life force, only to later discover the interfering signal producing the 'exotic language' on you radio was from a Spanish talk-show?"

"I am a scientist, not a linguist!"

"Obviously. You thought your name would go down in history for finding a broadcast discussing a new telenovela."

A mixture of frustration and embarrassment created a red streak across Hanji's cheeks. "This time is different. I have tangible proof!"

"Dr. Hanji, careful. That information is classified," said the assistant, Moblit, who was remarkably a few ranks below Hanji in whatever it was they do. With the way Moblit ridiculed and disciplined his reckless boss, it seemed like the other way around.

What Hanji and Moblit did for a living wasn't quite clear to Levi. From what he gathered, Hanji was an obnoxious scientist who checked into the motel too often with their partner to conduct local research on his boring town. Hanji probably explained their jobs in full detail countless times, but Levi's ears naturally sieved out Hanji's voice.

Overall, Levi found himself less surprised at hearing about the remnants of an alien space craft, and more surprised by the fact that two quacks like them actually found employment.

"Levi is a local," Hanji explained to Moblit, making a flourishing gesture up at the ceiling. "He deserves to know about his extraterrestrial neighbors."

"Well, if you see these aliens," Kenny finger-quoted skeptically before collecting a beer for himself from the fridge, "let them know we'll score them a discount here at the motel if they choose to take a vacation on Earth."

"Will do!" Hanji squeaked as they coiled their fists excitedly. "Ah! Can you imagine it?"

"Not really," Levi answered flatly. The room felt significantly hotter from their long-winded ramblings. If aliens did exist, he hoped they'd abduct Hanji and take them far away to another galaxy. "Can I have the key now?"

"Oh, right," Hanji perked up and flung the key ring; it made a clang as it hit the surface of the desk. "I'll be back in a month or so, remember to keep a room vacant for me."

A part of him wished he could use the no vacancy excuse when the time came, but they hadn't had a full house in recent memory. There'll likely be at least one damned room available for that eccentric nut job and their test subject.

As Hanji and Moblit departed from the office with friendly waves, Levi stood up from his chair to return the key to its hook on the wall, hesitating a moment before hanging it up in the slot labeled room nine. His frownlines deepened with a flinching grimace. Returning to his seat heavily, Levi almost found himself missing the distraction the two scientists offered. Once again, all he could focus on was the heat clinging to his skin like a woolly coat—and _her_.

"Usually you go stampeding into a room with an arsenal of cleaning products as soon as someone checks out," Kenny commented from the couch, the bottle of beer lingering by his lips.

Grimly, Levi hung his head and pinched the creases between his brows. "It's too hot to clean."

"Quit whining and go make yourself useful. I'll manage the office until you get back."

"...Fine," he muttered, but only because he had no other excuses to give—well, there was one valid reason why he avoided that room, but it was too shameful to voice. Once he gathered the key and all the needed supplies from the closet, Levi headed toward the door.

"And don't even think about turning on the air in that room," Kenny quickly added, "that's for paying customers only."

After struggling to insert the key into the knob while juggling the supplies in hand, Levi kicked the door to room nine open. A quick pan around later, he set down the cleaning supplies and defiantly made his way over to the air unit. With a press of a button, he ignited the power and out poured a crisp gust of winter air.

Just that short trip outside in the sweltering heat managed to shed the last remaining layers of productiveness he had. For the first time in Levi's life, he didn't want to clean. He wanted to stand in front of this air until his face bruised with frostbite. And most of all, he didn't want to be in this room—this room that was still haunted by blurry memories and still retained the residue of her perfume. No—that must be his imagination. Two months had past since that night. All traces of her were surely gone.

Levi's sigh fought against the cold wind as he reflected how much of a fool he's been. He purposely avoided renting out this room, just so he didn't have to step foot in it. However, when Hanji rolled into town his mother happened to be working the front desk and rented it out to them. It was probably for the best—he felt pathetic for trying to deny the existence of room nine, like it was some overlooked quarantine housing his regrets and shame.

The sight of the room itself wasn't profoundly unpleasant for him; it was an exact replica of the other fourteen rooms. The last time he was in here he hardly paid any mind to the room itself, after all. His attention was fixated on _her_ and _only_ her—but being alone in this room again, just like the morning he woke up and found her missing from his side, left him feeling hollow and bitter.

The details of that night were fuzzy, like the memories of a dream he wished he never awoke from. And her voice had become a distant chime like the chapel bells that barely grazed the edge of hearing each morning. The sight of her still projected like a flicking reel of film in his mind that would, in time, fade to black. The thought of forgetting what she looked like made his stomach harden with a cringe. He did not want their beginning to be the end.

Shaking off the troublesome thoughts, Levi decided to moved his attention to the current task he had at hand to keep his mind busy. First he shed the blankets and sheets from the mattress and hurtled the heap atop an arm chair. He then equipped a can of furnishing polish and a rag from the supply basket. A greasy spritz of polish spout out onto to the wooden surface of the nightstand, and Levi buffed it furiously, as if cleansing this one night stand would somehow cleanse him metaphorically.

Paying extra attention to the questionably sticky ledges, he exfoliated it until the wood squeaked and glimmered like new. During this he caught a glimpse of something wedged between the stand and the bed, something rectangular in shape, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was due to it being cloaked in shadows.

A brow crooked up as he curiously bent down to pick it up...and what he pulled out from the cranny was a cellphone boarded with a red silicone case.

Taking a seat on the bare mattress, Levi held down the power button to turn it on, but after a moment of waiting for the startup screen to appear it became apparent the battery was dead. The lint and crumbs stuck to the silicone indicated the phone had been burrowed in a nest of dust balls for a while—that or it belonged to a certain filthy scientist.

After setting the phone down, he wiped his palm on his pant sleeve and made a mental memo to call Hanji's office later to ask if they or Moblit lost a phone. Great, he'll have to endure an extra dose of crazy when they come to pick it up.

Dropping to his knees, Levi ducked his head down to peer beneath the nightstand to make sure nothing else was accidently left behind. Stretching out his arm, he reached for the only other object he could spot and latched onto it.

A quavering breath stilled in his dry throat as he stared down at the tube of lipstick now in his hand.

Memories raided his mind in an instant. Levi thought he'd never see that shade of red again after he washed it off his body in the shower the morning after his encounter with that woman. He recalled how the lipstick once festered throughout his skin, like a stamp shaped as luscious lips.

His focus switched back to the the cell phone, like a detective trying to make a connection between two pieces of evidence.

 _If this is her lipstick...could that possibly be her cellphone?_

Rising back to his feet, Levi paced back and forth, his hand slicking back his hair in pensive frustration. Panic and a pinch of excitement swarmed through him as he mulled and moiled about the room.

 _No...it's not her phone_ , he decided to tell himself before he clung to any wild assumptions. It would be more reasonable to assume the phone belonged to _Hanji_. Slowing to a stop, he let his eyes maneuver back to the cellphone and he squeezed the lipstick tight in his fist. Next, his eyes moved to the bed, where his heart had bloomed with something special before being crushed and deserted.

In a burst of rage, he threw the lipstick at the wall and stomped off testily, wanting to proceed with his chores and forget he ever found anything.

"Stop thinking about her," he demanded beneath his breath, "she surely isn't thinking about you."

 **~x~**

A breeze came rolling in from one of the open office windows, wafting the hanging room keys like a wind chime. The flaming orb in the sky Levi had been cursing all day finally went off to bother another timezone with its blazing rays, granting the quiet desert town a cool night.

"So...neither you or Moblit lost a cell phone? You're sure?" Levi stammered into the office's phone, his fingers drumming tentatively on the surface of the desk.

"Nope," Hanji replied surely, "all my equipment, personal items and mobile devices are all accounted for. It must belong to the person who occupied the room before me."

"Yeah...You're probably right."

After hanging up on Hanji's extraneous ramblings a while later, Levi pensively stared at the mysterious cell phone on the desk, contemplating what to do next. The chances of the phone belonging to _her_ just rose up significantly—but there's only one way to cross off all doubts.

Prompt by the thought, Levi pushed himself up from the chair and hoofed over to the supply closet where he whipped the door open. Crouching down, he tugged out an encumbered box and began to dig through it. On one of the cardboard flaps the words _lost & found_ were sprawled on with marker. In time, copious amounts of discarded items piled up around him.

The amount of crap people left behind in motel rooms was remarkable—actually, it wasn't all crap; most items were valuable. Jewelry, electronics, identification, you name it and Levi found it at abandoned at one point. Some came back to claim it, but most of the time these abandoned items live out the rest of their days in this cramped box. Unless Levi took a liking to a certain unwanted item, then he'd snatch it up for himself.

Untangling yet another wire, Levi reached out to plug it into the outlet. He had spent the past fifteen minutes trying to find a charger that matched the phone he found in room nine. So far he hadn't found a match yet.

With a hold of the phone with one hand and the end of the cord with the other, the plug clicked in and the icon of a battery flashed on. At long last: a match. This must be how the prince felt when he finally slipped the glass slipper on Cinderella's foot. How did that idiot forget what she looked like after spending an evening together, anyway? Levi was plastered all to hell and he still had that woman's face carved into his memory.

To avoid distractions he shook the image out of his mind like a Etch-a-Sketch and clambered back up into the chair. From there he perused the charging phone in brooding silence, his fingers drumming along the surface of the desk, the beat as rapid as his heart.

 _If this phone does belong to her...I should be able to contact her._

Ever since that night, Levi hadn't been able to erase the sensation that woman left imprinted on him. It was like nothing Levi ever felt before. And he wanted more of it. More of her. More of her sullen eyes that brightened when he said the right thing to her. Or moved inside her in just the right way. He wanted a name, another conversation, another chance.

He wanted all of her, and it took him until now to consciously admit that.

Before he found this cell phone, coming into contact with her seemed impossible. Levi didn't even know her _name_ for starters—he didn't know jack shit about her, in fact. They bonded intimately, not personally.

Thoughts of her had orbited around his mind for two months like a unceasing hurricane, but he was trapped in the eye, unable to escape those raging thoughts. Waiting for the post-coital tristesse phase to pass was his only option, at least until he felt daring enough to sought out her presence in Trost Tavern on a few lonely nights, hoping he'd meet her again. The same drunken faces were accounted for, but not the new pretty one he had come to like. At one point Levi began to contemplate whether or not the woman ever even existed. Maybe the heat fried his brain. Maybe she was a figment of his imagination. Maybe she was, literally, the woman of his dreams.

If she did exist, however, all signs pointed to her not wanting anything to do with him. Her leaving without a goodbye the morning after their affair made that abundantly clear. She probably regretted the whole thing once she returned to her senses—and Levi understood all this, but he also liked her, a lot. Even if she didn't want to have a sexual or romantic relationship with him that would be fine. Living in a town like this could get lonely, even for a loner like himself. A local friend would be comforting to have. All he had was his mother, uncle, and the fly-by-nights that strolled in to rent a room. There needed to be more than what he had, and he suspected that woman possessed the qualities he looked for in a person.

All he wanted was a second chance with her to start over. Apologizing might be a good place to start. There's a chance she felt embarrassed. Defiled, even. Of course Levi didn't intent to take advantage of her in her vulnerable state. In all fairness they were both smashed and neither one of them were capable of making responsible decisions. He never would've slept with her so quickly under different circumstances—he'd like to move past that fuck up and get to know her.

As usual, he was getting too ahead of himself. To start over with her, he'd have to find her first. He shouldn't set his hopes too high. Even if this phone did belong to her, there's no telling how she'd react to him contacting her. Badly, he presumed, but even so, he booted up the phone hopefully.

"Levi."

At the call of his name, he jarred his head up and found his mother idling by the door, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. "What are you still doing here? It's time to lock up."

His eyes strayed over to the phone which now displayed the start-up logo. "I'll close up in a few minutes."

"Did someone make reservations?"

"No."

With her features wavering between curiosity and irk, his mother flounced around the front desk and leaned over to study her son. Her loose blouse rumpled down her arm like a curtain, exposing a pale shoulder. She made varying hums and tilted her head. This was typical behavior; the woman was fluent in translating his expressions and body language. That's how they normally communicated when Levi didn't feel talkative.

"If no one is coming, then close up," she said at last, dubiously. "You're just asking to be robbed by keeping the lobby open late."

"Do you truly believe someone could rob _me_?" he asked with a hint of amusement. "Plus it's not like I'm unarmed in here."

A gasp flung into her throat. "Don't tell me Kenny is storing his stupid guns in here again. I told him I _don't_ want any weapons around."

"There's about ten guns stored in this room alone. And that's not counting the one's he keeps on him and his collection at the house."

With her face filling with mild disgust, she let out a gritty sigh. "That man has seen one two many Clint Eastwood movies."

"Tell me about it. He thinks he's the law man around here."

"As long as he doesn't go around drunkenly pointing a revolver at stray animals again I guess I can live with some extra protection." She took a seat up on the desk, and after a moment of staring at her son, a faint smile appeared on her lips as her hand reached out to comb his hair back in the way she liked it styled. Swatting her hand away, Levi combed his hair back in place.

"You're so moody lately—more moody than usual. Has Kenny been giving you a hard time? He better not be. I'll hit him upside the head with a cactus."

When she said things like that, it made Levi grateful to be an only child. His mother and uncle didn't paint the rosiest picture of sibling love. "It's nothing like that." Even though being around Kenny was a lot like having a thorn penetrating his ass, his uncle wasn't the source of his fraying sanity for once.

"Then what is it?"

"Don't worry about it."

Her eyes narrowed crushingly. "Don't worry about it," she mimicked his deep tone, "says the depressed bastard surrounded by guns...and junk," she moved her elevated foot aside to look at the floor, just now noticing the mess Levi created when he searched through the box. "You made a mess and didn't clean it up? Now I'm beyond worried. And don't give me that 'I'm fine' crap. I know you for thirty-four years; I know when you're bullshitting me."

With a pained expression, he cocked his head away and decided not to hazard an answer, knowing anything he said would trigger off his mothers built in lie detector.

After a while of silence, her lips lopsided. "Are you lonely?"

"No. In fact, I'd like to be alone right now." Levi swiped a hand down his face, mumbling promises about being fine.

"Who's phone is this?" she asked suddenly, and by the time he looked it was already in her hands. Quickly, he snatched it up, leaving her stunned, and a second later, he was too. His jaw had dropped the moment his eyes came in contact with the screen. For a few long seconds, he was completely absorbed in the snapshot displayed on the lockscreen.

"Is that a guests phone?" His mother tried to peek over but he pressed the phone against his chest, denying her visual access.

Her face erupted with annoyance. "Don't go nosying through it. That's an invasion of privacy. How many times have I told you and Kenny not to snoop through the guests belongings?"

"I know the person who owns this," Levi said softly, stealing another peek at the screen, which displayed a picture of his one-night lover centered between two smiling men.

"Hanji?" his mother guessed.

"No, it's someone you don't know."

"Honey, everyone you know I know too."

"Not this one."

"Suspicious..." she mumbled through pouting lips.

Levi ran his hands down his cheeks, trying to erase the heat accumulated there. With a wincing expression, he looked his mother in the eye and reluctantly said, "If I give you a short summery of what's going on, will you leave me alone?"

"Depends," she shrugged. "If I have follow up questions, no."

At least she's honest. He braced himself for her unavoidable reactions by sucking in a shaky breath. "...I met a girl."

His mother unhinged her mouth to let in a gasp, but Levi cut it short by slamming his palm on the desk. Crossly, he scooted up in his chair; the contrast between his mothers widening grin and his uptight posture was profound.

"No. _Stop it,"_ he demanded at his giddy mother _._ "Don't get too excited. It's not like that. Whatever ideas you're feeding yourself right now is wrong."

She rolled her glinting eyes, her smirk still widening. "Right, right. So what's the story with you and this _friend_?"

Troubled suddenly, his eyes cast aside."I wouldn't even call her a friend. We met once, and I lost touch with her. Anyway, I said I'd give you a summary, not the whole novel so I'm ending it there. I didn't want you worrying about stupid shit so I thought I'd let you now my change in mood is due to this woman..." his voice trailed off when he peered up to see the dopey smile painted across his mothers lips. Her and Kenny had the same smile, so naturally it pissed him off.

"What?" he snapped.

"You seem to really like her...this _friend_. Is she hot? I bet she's a cougar."

"A coug— _mom_. No. She's younger than me."

"Really? So I assume she's not from around here? Was she a guest?"

"I'm pretty sure she's from around here." Some traces of the conversation they had seemed to suggest that, at least. "I guess her and I make up the small percentage of people under fifty around here."

"Excuse you," she jabbed a finger at herself offendedly. "I should be included in that estimate too, I'm forty-six."

"...Yeah, for like six years straight now."

She whapped him in the arm for that. "Admit it, I could pass for thirty."

"Yes, and I could pass for fifteen. What the hell is wrong with your genetics?"

She hummed a sinister note. "Family secret."

An unbidden chuckle freed from Levi, and his mothers eyes soften on him. "There it is."

"Hm?"

"I like seeing you smile," she said, cupping the side of his cheek.

His lips descended back into a familiar frown a second later.

"You rebellious little shit," her soft caress transitioned into a sharp pinch. "You always do the opposite of what I say. With that said, here's what I have to say about your lady friend: Don't you ever tell me anything else about her. And under no circumstances should you ever introduce me to her. I have absolutely zero interest in this young woman—stop smiling, I'm serious."

Levi smiled more, but it wasn't totally genuine, there was something sad about it now. He had nothing to say in response to her hidden comical pleas-he probably should've have told her anything, he belatedly realized. All that did was generate excitement in her (and admittedly himself), but there was no telling what the future had in store for him and this woman. All day he's been telling himself not to get his hopes up, but he just couldn't help it. Right now he was pumped up and wanted to thumb through her contacts and try to find a number he could reach her by, like a home or work number. But when he peered over at the clock and noticed how late it was, he stored his motivation for later use.

Talking to his mother managed to clear his mind and unclog his nerves, at least. Once outside, she locked up the office behind them and he peered up at the crescent moon appearing between a rift of clouds as he thought that maybe, just maybe, he had a chance of patching things up with this mysterious woman that made his heart pound at the thought of her. Levi wouldn't call himself a firm believer of fate, but finding a way to contact her made him less of a skeptic.

The outcome didn't look too promising, but it was worth a shot.

 **~x~**

After changing his clothes, Levi clicked off the lamp and crossed his bedroom, holding the phone up like a torch to guide his dark path. A relaxed sigh freed from him after he crashed into bed. Swallowing up his impending guilt, Levi mentally disposed of what his mother told him about invading people's privacy and spent the next few hours snooping through the cell phone. Levi wasn't a total insensitive stalker, though. He didn't read her personal emails, text messages or anything else that appeared too private to examine, but by looking through her apps, public status updates and photos, he learned quite a lot about her; things he had wondered about for the past two months was all at the touch of his fingertips.

Thanks to her Facebook account, he learned the most important question of all: her name.

From now on, he no longer had to refer to her as _her_ or _that woman_. The person who had made him feel alive and then left him for dead was named Mikasa.


End file.
